MOVIE REVIEW: 'Rush' a vivid chronicle of life in the fast lane

In “Rush,” Ron Howard makes every shift stick while chronicling the heated – and we’re talking real fire here – rivalry between British playboy James Hunt and Austrian stick-in-the-mud Niki Lauda, two drivers who funneled their mutual hatred into four Formula One racing championships.

By Al Alexander

The Patriot Ledger, Quincy, MA

By Al Alexander

Posted Sep. 27, 2013 at 12:01 AM
Updated Sep 27, 2013 at 11:17 AM

By Al Alexander

Posted Sep. 27, 2013 at 12:01 AM
Updated Sep 27, 2013 at 11:17 AM

» Social News

Ladies and gentlemen, start your ticket buying. I speak, of course, of “Rush,” Ron Howard’s incredibly thrilling exposé on Formula One racing and the daredevil men who risk life and limb so they can boast who has the bigger trophy. Abetted by writer Peter Morgan (“The Queen,” “Frost/Nixon”) and cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle (“Slumdog Millionaire”), Howard makes every shift stick while chronicling the heated – and we’re talking real fire here – rivalry between British playboy James Hunt and Austrian stick-in-the-mud Niki Lauda, two drivers who funneled their mutual hatred into four F1 championships.

You won’t hear Hunt (Chris Hemsworth) and Lauda (Daniel Brühl) uttering lines like “You complete me,” but during the exciting, tumultuous 1976 F1 season, they actually did bring their boisterous yin and yang act so together that they made each other not just great drivers but even greater men. And Howard vividly brings that to the fore, giving us a warts-and-all portrait of two athletes who could never settle for second best. It was either win, or pout. Sportsmanship was neither’s forte. But drive was – and, boy, could they drive, repeatedly pushing themselves to the brink of death at 200 mph in their souped-up fiberglass coffins.

One would eventually lose a wife, the other an ear in their pursuit of greatness. But were the losses worth the gains? That’s a question you keep asking yourself, as you marvel at the sheer hutzpah of two men who weren’t about to let anything get in their way, including each other’s sleek racing machines. Howard doesn’t hold anything back, either, delivering electrifying shots of wheel-to-wheel combat that makes the chariot races in “Ben-Hur” look like a Soap Box Derby. And like Charlton Heston’s iconic character, Hunt and Lauda are true gladiators bravely putting their lives on the line to delight the blood-thirsty multitudes with their remarkable ability to cheat death.

No doubt the racing is the high-octane fuel that powers the story, but it’s the dueling personalities on opposite sides of a shared death wish that puts “Rush” on the pole for the upcoming Oscar race. Morgan, who has emerged as the go-to writer for 20th century historical figures (Richard Nixon, David Frost, Queen Elizabeth, Idi Amin), again fashions three-dimensional depictions that neither sugarcoat or vilify. He leaves it totally up to you to decide whether you want to join Team Lauda or Team Hunt. At first, that choice is easy. If you enjoy decadence and flamboyance, Hunt’s your guy. And if you prefer stoic intellectualism, you can’t get stuffier than Lauda. But as “Rush” rushes by at a breakneck pace the two camps become less clearly defined. Things you hated about each gradually become virtues, and the initial virtues become liabilities. In other words, these alleged opposites really aren’t that different. And watching it dawn on them is really quite moving.

Page 2 of 2 - Credit much of that to the Oscar-worthy performances dialed up by Brühl (“Inglourious Basterds”) and Hemsworth, aka Thor, an actor I previously had zero respect for. That all changed after just a few minutes of observing him fully disappear into his character. He’s still a long-blond-haired Adonis, but like another pretty boy gone great, Brad Pitt, Hemsworth convinces you that there’s a lot going on behind the gorgeous façade. He couldn’t be more ideally cast, either, convincingly mimicking both Hunt’s rock star looks and gregarious personality. You fully believe that Hunt was placed on earth solely to break the hearts of beautiful women (He allegedly bedded 500 of them on the eve of the most important race of his career.), which he does with shocking regularity.

If he’s the fire in this equation, then Lauda is most certainly the ice. And Brühl meticulously captures all the little quirks that made Lauda such a fun-hating guy. True to his Germanic heritage, Lauda seldom smiles, has no use for small-talk and fastidiously thinks out his every move. It’s a terrific performance that approaches greatness after Lauda is cruelly struck by catastrophe. It’s also at that point when “Rush” begins to transcend the typical sports film and approaches something akin to Greek tragedy. It’s quite a ride, too, with Howard firmly gripping the wheel, avoiding all the sentimental pot holes that have pocked his road to greatness. “Rush” is simply his finest film to date, and the only thing checkered about it is the flag signifying his glorious victory.